Firebrand
by The13thGirlWithoutASoul
Summary: What happened in the four months between episodes two and three? Close encounters with the British keep getting closer. Soon everyone is in danger. Can James, Sarah and Henri put aside their differences to stay together though the turmoil of an occupied city?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Firebrand**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: What happened in the four months between episodes two and three? Close encounters with the British keep getting closer. Soon everyone is in danger. Can James, Sarah and Henri put aside their differences to stay together though the turmoil of an occupied city?**

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**Chapter One:  
A/N: If you had a friend who loved to cook invite you to try a new recipe and you ate it, then just left without telling her if you liked it or not? Even though she knew you tasted it? Well, it's the same with writing. So if you read, please just review. **

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**Because this is anonymous, I can shamelessly tell you that I dreamed about getting reviews for my stories last night. Yes, really.**

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"Here you go, Henri." said Moses, depositing the last small package into the little boy's arms. "Now you can open them."

James and Henri tore the paper off theirs while Sarah slowly untied the packing string and unfolded the paper. Back at home on Christmas day, they would open gifts that morning over the breakfast table from their parents. There would be a Christmas ball that night for Major and Lady Philips to go to and during the day Sarah and her cousins Tom, Jane, Georgina and Kate would be allowed free reign of most of the house after coming back from religious services.

She opened the package to see a small ivory box painted with roses and smiled. Dr. Franklin had sent presents from England! Sarah concealed a small smirk.

Wouldn't that make James angry? Speaking of James, he had just unearthed a new small notebook and pencil from his package, while Henri had a little box of chocolates, half of which he had already eaten. From his employer, Moses received a wrist-clock. As was the custom, gifts were only given from employers to workers or parents to children, so the children did not exchange gifts with one another.

"Thank you, Moses—I must write and thank Dr. Franklin as well."

Sarah had been with Moses, James and Henri for a little more then a week and felt both with them and far away. Her ideals were different and she couldn't help but feel a little nervous, the only British girl in a house full of war-ready Patriots.

"It's snowing today, so we'd better get the sleigh ready quickly. Come on, James, help me. The rest of you get ready for church."

As Sarah passed Moses, he said to her a bit quietly, "There's something from your mother on the table." she understood his discretion. She didn't want to spoil Christmas for James and Henri by showing that she had presents from her mother and they had no mothers to give them presents.

She delayed unwrapping the present until she had unbraided and pulled back her hair and put on her shoes (obviously she had dressed beforehand—this might have been America but she wasn't letting anyone see her in her shift).

The gift was quite large for Christmas and came with a small note from her mother wishing her well, but Sarah supposed her mother meant it grander in order to make up for the fact that Sarah was not with her family for the first Christmas ever. It was a dress.

It was a magnificent dress, sent in a crate, made of blue silk with a pale, rose-colored second skirt and delicate stitching everywhere. It was rather flat, for her mother knew Sarah had brought all of her hoops and petticoats with her on a separate ship. They had arrived a few days before. She had to write her mother soon to thank her and Dr. Franklin.

Sarah left the gown crumpled on her bed and ran outside and into the sleigh to join the religious services.

* * *

"I hate snow." moaned James as he paced outside the window. "It never stops."

"That's not what you were saying a few weeks ago when you couldn't wait for it," Sarah observed, carefully stitching on her sampler. It was the alphabet, and she was on 'R'. She had always been the best stitcher among her friends but had found little time to complete it here in America.

James barely suppressed a shudder at the disgustingly girlish (and boring) activity. "That was before I couldn't go out and look for stories because of it."

"Well, not much is happening anyway, with all the snow. I don't think you're missing much." Sarah continued with her work. Henri bounded in, munching on a piece of bread bought from the bakery for Christmas. Moses couldn't cook, though he tried, James wouldn't cook, Sarah, being from an upper-class British family, wasn't sure how to boil water, and Henri was best left alone about cooking. They usually paid a widow named Mrs. Nates to make their meals.

"James, Sarah! The mail!"

"Finally!" Sarah leapt up, 'R' forgotten. "They haven't been getting through recently."

"I guess it is snowing less." agreed James as he searched the mail. Sarah had two letters for her—one from her mother and one from her cousins. She read her mother's letter quickly. It was in response to her thank you letter she had sent after receiving her Christmas present. But the letter that got her excited was the second one, sent by her girl-cousins, Georgina, Jane, and Katherine.  
All close to her age, Tom's sisters had played with Sarah as her best friends all her life. She missed them terribly.

_December 26, 1773,_  
_Dear Sarah, how are you? We all miss you so very much and hope Major Philips is well and returns soon so that you may make a home for us to visit or return to England. _

_Everything has been alright at home. Christmastide was lovely. We all received the most cunning little sets of combs, which Kate has worn to her FIRST BALL! _(These letters were underlined several times, and while the rest of the letter was Jane's handwriting, these two words were written by Kate)_ Yes, Kate has gone to her first Christmas ball. No one can believe it. In two years, Sarah, it will be you and I (Jane) going to our own first balls and Georgina will follow us the next season. Kate's gown was most enviable! We all saw the one your mother sent for you, Sarah, and this gown resembled it, but it was hunter green and trimmed with black fur around the cuffs. When Kate first tried it on she almost fell over from all the jewels on her person! I have sent you the sketch our seamstress drew for her._

_Kate's sixteenth birthday was quite a success, almost two hundred people attended and it was held in the garden. Father believes she will be married before she passes her nineteenth, judging by the suitors there! Perhaps we shall have nieces and nephews to look after before long._

_We have been keeping up with our studies fairly well but Georgina and I do seem to fall behind with you not there with us, Sarah. I have a feeling Mr. Matthews knows this as well—you were always the most terrific reader and writer and now our poor tutor despairs of giving us any writing assignments at all. _

_It is hoped by all who know you that you are safe in the colonies. We have all heard stories of heathens who kidnap young women and uncouth colonists. America is a dangerous place for a girl of upbringing such as yourself, Mother says. She does not approve of your mother sending you there alone. _

_You say you have others in the house; Moses, a former slave, and two boys. I burned your letter instead of saving it as I do others, for you mustn't reveal this information to anyone in England anymore. I am sure in this America of yours such behavior is acceptable but you must know what it means for your reputation here in England if it were to come out that you had lived with young men. The gossips—Hattie and Susana, you know the girls—would certainly twist your words so that you will return to England a harlot. _

_We pray for your safe return. All colonists are uneducated, brash, arrogant, cruel, untrustworthy, and crude and we fear for your safety most severely. _

_With love always, Your cousins Jane, Georgina, and Kate_

_Postscript: Jane has finally finished her samplar! She is now onto the religious verses. _

Sarah had never felt so lonely in the colonies as she had then. Despite her spark of defensiveness over Jane's last words about her living arrangements and slander of the colonists, she still understood that much had happened in the time she'd been away. The letter had been sent four days ago. Even more could have happened since them.

She sighed audibly, catching James's attention. "Something wrong?"

"My cousins just wrote me a letter." she said. He frowned.

"I didn't know you had cousins."

"I have four—Tom, Kate, Jane, and Georgina." she said. "We used to play on our fathers' estates all the time. Tom got away with everything, though. He was always the favorite." she didn't sound disappointed at this, just fond. "He enlisted in the King's Army just this fall—"

"So he's a Redcoat?" said James, unimpressed.

"James Hiller, do not talk that way about His Majesty's Army. My father and uncle are officers besides Tom." Sarah scolded, widening her eyes in annoyance.

"I cannot believe that a patriot like Dr. Franklin could be friends with your family." James replied, flopping into a chair with a sigh. Sarah resisted the urge to roll her eyes (her deportment teacher had always told her it made young ladies look like crazed horses) and instead folded her arms.

"I cannot believe that an intelligent, educated man such as Dr. Franklin could interact with _you_."

"I can talk about the Redcoats however I like," replied James. "Because we're not going to be part of England much longer."

Sarah turned away and went to her bedroom to respond to her cousins' letter, wondering if she could ever fit into this new world.

What would she write to them? She could tell them about the destruction of the tea, but was that a good idea? Would they think she was uncivilized as well?  
Would they completely forget her? Sarah felt very alone and very far from home.

_December 30th, 1773_

_Dear Kate, Jane, and Georgina, _

Sarah tapped her quill against the table. What to write? She couldn't tell them about her housemates or escapades. She reread their letter and the last few words—disparaging adjectives about colonists—now made her frown with disconcertion.

* * *

"Sarah? Are you in here?" James looked into the room. The spare room, now Sarah's, was neat, the bed made and no bags or girl frivoles in sight. In all honesty, by looking at the room it could be debated whether Sarah Philips existed. It was a lonely feeling room.

"Sarah?" he strode further inside; he had come to apologize.

"I'm coming!" Sarah's voice floated up the stairs. As he passed the only sign of inhabitance, an unfinished letter, the words she had written caught his eye.

Dear Kate, Jane, and Georgina,

All Colonists and Patriots are brash, cruel, uneducated, crass, and arrogant

The words were not finished, but it was all James needed for his admittedly-quick temper to flare. He turned on his heel and ran all the way downstairs and towards the press, where he had expected Moses to be setting type.

He was not. Frowning, then seething as he heard Sarah's voice upstairs, calling out to ask where he had gone, he ascertained from Henri that after the sun had come out and melted most of the snow, Moses had gone to the store for ink and would not be returning for an hour. After Moses returned, supper was held and there was no time for discussion. He could barely look at Sarah for his anger at her.

After supper he went to Moses, who was writing a letter of his own in Dr. Franklin's office, somewhere he often went to take refuge from the children's noise.

"Moses, Sarah hates us. She—"

"James," Moses said, frowning at him concernedly, "Sarah has done many kind things for us. Don't spread rumors."

"I'm not! She wrote to her Tory cousins and told them that all colonists were dumb and crackpates! She hates us!" James was angry at the insult, but beneath that he felt strangely...hurt. He tried to brush off the feeling without success.

"James, I'm sure—"

"What's this about, James?" Sarah demanded, coming into the room, probably hearing her name.

"I'm sure you know." replied James, glaring at her.

"Nothing. James just had a misunderstanding, right, James?" asked Moses, looking at him severely. But James turned away, missing the distress in Sarah's eyes at his next remark.

"Why don't you just go back to England if you hate the colonists so much?" he asked, making Moses frown deepen and Sarah look confused.

"What are you talking about, James?"

"Your letter! The one you wrote your cousins. You wrote that all colonists were stupid and cruel."

"What?" Sarah looked completely dumbfounded. "That's not what I meant."  
"Show us the letter, then. Tell us what you _meant_ by that." James crossed his arms, continuing to try to push the hurt feeling away.

"Sarah, you don't have to show us anything. I'm sure there's a reasonable—"

Sarah looked livid. "Well! I don't have to prove anything to _you, James Hiller,_ but I will get the letter anyway if only to prove how rude you have been not once but twice today. I had finished that letter after I came back. Come with me, please."

After shooting James a 'you're in trouble' look, Moses followed Sarah and James to the British girl's room. Sarah held up the letter and thrust it into James's face, where he went slightly ashen upon reading the words.

_Dear Kate, Jane, and Georgina,_

_All Colonists and Patriots are brash, cruel, uneducated, crass, and arrogant, you say? I must disagree with you. While some fit your Description, I suppose Men in England could as well. There are a great number of eloquent Speakers and brilliant Thinkers residing here in our Colonies. I do wish my father would come and help me to set up our Household here, though. I am finding it hard to make Friends and settle in.._.

The letter went on from there, but the beginning sentence in question made James look like...well, a brash, cruel, uneducated, crass, arrogant fool.

"Sarah, I—"

"I'm getting quite tired. I think I'll retire. Moses and James, I think you can see yourselves out?" her voice was cold and slightly higher then usual. Moses sent a concerned look at the two before stepping out of the room.

"Sarah—"

"Goodnight, Mr. Hiller." said Sarah, turning around. Awkwardly James left. So they were back to Mr. Hiller and Miss Philips.

Well, this day had gone to complete rot.


	2. Chapter 2

**FUN FACT: I think James and Sarah are stuck in my computer. I don't even mean for them to be arguing, I look down at what I'm typing, and there they are, hashing it out. It's kind of scaring me, actually.**

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The breakfast table that morning was an almost comical affair.

Moses, who tried to keep relations between the two hot-headed eldest children peaceful (or at least without going to blows) and Henri, who had no idea of last night's events, valiantly tried to keep up the flow of conversation, to which Sarah and James respectively replied to in carefully enunciated monosyllables and mumbled sentences, the former never directed towards the latter. In fact, Sarah was not looking at James at all.

Suddenly a thought struck Moses, if only to fill the tension. "I need a volunteer to come with me on a trip to Virginia." he said. "Ben Franklin asked me for someone to copy down a speech Patrick Henry is making in three days, and since it will take two and a half to get there, we have to leave now. He wants to publish the entire thing in the _Gazette_."

"I'll go." Sarah said immediately. James looked away and Henri frowned.

"But Zharah, you don't agree with ze patriots! Why would you want to help them?"

"I am not doing this because I agree with or don't agree with the patriots. It will be good for me to get out of the house and, er, clear my head—but why are we making the trip in winter? Tomorrow is the New Year." asked Sarah.

"Dr. Franklin asked us to record the speech, and it's happening January third. That's all I know, Sarah, I'm sorry—are you sure you wouldn't rather stay here?"

"Of course not." James continued to try to catch Sarah's eye from across the table. She steadily ignored him. "When are we leaving?"

* * *

The boy in the center of the group pushed Henri again, this time making him fall against the wall of a building. They were all about his age, but Henri was defenseless against their combined strength.

"But all I asked was if I could play with you!" he said, struggling against the two children holding his arms, at the beck and call of their leader.

"We don't let little frogs play with us." said the leader. He wound back his arm to hit Henri. "My father got killed by a frog in the Seven Years war."

Henri cringed and waited for the impact, which never came. Instead he heard his name being shouted, then the boys scattered, heavily assisted by James. "Henri!" James knelt in front of the younger boy, grasping his shoulders. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," breathed the orphan blankly. James had always felt as if Henri was his brother, and never more so then now, as he knelt getting his breeches wet in a pile of slush, protectively holding the arms of his ward.

So when Henri leaned forward into James and began to cry, James just let him.

"Zames? I miss Zharah."

He fought to remind himself it was only to placate Henri when he said, "Me too."

* * *

The trip was faster then expected and Moses and Sarah decided to stay in Williamsburg to eat their suppers before starting back out to Philadelphia. Moses had decided to eat at the home of one of his friends, and had invited Sarah along, but she refused. She settled outside a store to eat her supper, bored of the wagon's canvas walls. A gaggle of girls sat on the same bench, and out of politeness, Sarah spoke.

"Hello, how are you?"

It was the sort of rhetorical 'how are you' but it didn't stop one of them, probably their leader by the way she sat in the center, to say, "We don't talk to English priss."

From by the shop, a girl slightly younger then Sarah but with almost as red hair turned. "Don't talk like that, Mary!"

"Oh, what do you know?" scowled the girl, but left anyway, flouncing off with her friends. The younger girl ran up to Sarah.

"My apologies about Mary—sometimes she's nice, but—" the littler girl lowered her voice to a stage whisper as she bobbed a quick greeting curtsey, something Sarah had not seen since she left England, "She shows off because she's sweet on Ben, and he's a _patriot_."

The gesture was kind, but Sarah had had quite enough. Giving the girl who had defended her her thanks, she took her leave and ate in the wagon. Once again, she began to think about James and Henri. They could have said the same thing.

Her hands fingered the locket around her neck. The sky was darkening, but her hands knew where it was without looking. It had been Henri's idea and James's most precious possession for a locket they had given to a 'British priss'—thank heaven they didn't think that—they barely knew. She had lost her temper with James just as much as he had jumped to conclusions. She wished they didn't argue so often. Why couldn't she get along with him as she did Henri, who shared his values but was like a brother to her?

When she got back to the shop, she was going to try not to argue as much.  
The sky was almost dark and Moses was coming up the path, so she handed him the reins of the horses and lay down in the wagon wrapped in her cloak.

She surprised herself by missing Henri, the print shop, and the familiar.

She surprised herself more by missing James as well.

* * *

Sarah was woken roughly, by shouting voices, in the middle of the night. Despite the freezing air and the hard floor underneath her cloak, she thought for a split second that she was home; all the voices around her were British.

It took her another split second to remember that that wasn't necessarily good.

Turning, she pushed herself against the back of the canvas to hear what the soldiers were saying.

"Is the girl still in the wagon?"

"Aye. We'll get 'er as soon as we finish going through the documents."

"Good. She can rot in jail with the Negro for all I care. Serves these Yanks right for spreading around this scum." Sarah drew in a sharp breath at that. Unfortunately, some British soldiers were just as dishonorable as the colonists at times.

Sarah climbed out of the wagon, holding her hands above her head when she saw Moses standing with two guns to his back.

"Moses," she hissed after she had been roughly ushered next to him. "What are all the papers for?"

"The friend who had me for supper met with me so we could get some posters from place to place. I thought we were too close to the city for British patrols of the country roads, but I was wrong." he said softly, out of hearing range of the soldiers.

"What's going to happen to us?"

"A rope for him, missy," interrupted a solider holding a musket to their backs, "And probably a prison sentence for you."

"Prison sentence? Rope? This is ridiculous! We haven't done anything wrong!" cried Sarah indignantly. The soldier, hearing her familiar accent, gave a mocking grin.

"Well, you don't sound much like a patriot."

"Because..." Sarah was about to declare her allegiance to King George when an idea struck her. "Because we're both loyalists, of course! And I demand to know what is going on here. No law has been broken."

"You were found with these posters. That's sedation." said the soldier bluntly, but Sarah was drawing the gazes of the other soldiers by her outburst.

"Not when we were doing our duty as British citizens by confiscating these papers," said Sarah, taking a deep breath and trying to act confident and haughty, though her legs were shaking underneath her long skirt. "We work for a newspaper and found these papers behind the press."

"And why're you taking them back?" asked another soldier.

"Because..." Sarah was lost for an answer, but Moses stepped in.

"Because we're taking then to be...re-pulped. It's a very...complicated printing technique. The original message will be blotted out completely."

It was obvious the soldiers didn't know anything about 're-pulping', but they feigned knowledge. "Ah!" said the one in charge. "Re-pulping, you say? Yes, I know all about that." he nodded. "Let them go."

Sarah gave a shaky sigh of relief and followed Moses, who was readying the horses. It was too dangerous to stay in the city any longer. They were going back to the print shop in the middle of the night.

"Moses," she whispered when the soldiers were out of sight, "What's re-pulping?"

"I have no idea." he chuckled as the moonlight shone down on the road. Sarah looked towards the path ahead. She just wanted to be at...the print shop again.

Curious, she had almost thought the word home.

* * *

"Is that zhem?" was the first thing Henri said as they cleaned up breakfast, which had really consisted of bread and apples.

"What?" asked James, who had not yet fully awakened. Henri pulled him to the window, then out the door.

The cold air serving to wake him up further, James watched through bleary eyes as Moses helped Sarah down from the wagon and Henri flung himself at her.

"Zharah! We missed you! What did Patrick Henry say?"

"I'll tell you when we go inside, Henri. I'm so happy to be back!" Sarah released the younger boy and threw her arms around James.

After a moment both Sarah and James awkwardly stepped back from one another, realizing the implications of their embrace. Sarah blushed. James cleared his throat and turned his similarly-colored face away.

"We ran into some trouble on our way back." Sarah said quickly to clear the air.  
"She's right," spoke up Moses, who was unloading the posters from the back of the wagon. "And Sarah saved us both from jail—or worse."

"I'm sure I didn't." murmured Sarah, embarrassed.

"And the good news is that we've got these papers through and they can now be distributed." said Moses. "We almost got arrested because of them."

"Let's get back inside. No need to wake up the neighbors." said James, holding the door open for the others to pass through, which earned him a smile from Sarah.

"The danger isn't over, children." said Moses. "The British soldiers will just get more vigilant, and the punishments will get more serious."

"They threatened the rope, Moses. I'm not sure how much more serious it can get." Sarah said, putting the kettle on the stove.

"I understand, Sarah." Moses set the papers inside the store room and looked out the window. Outside, the buildings were just beginning to wake up, which meant that the soldiers would be up soon as well. "We just have to be careful."

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**One of my favorite girls made a little cameo in this chapter. If you're the first to review with her name, I'll dedicate the Liberty's Kids crossover with her fandom that I'm planning to Y-O-U. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to all who reviewed, especially leafysummers for getting the challenge right. The answer is Felicty Merriman! : ). Thanks to my anon reviewers too—since I can't message you, I'll say thanks for reviewing here.**

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**Chapter Three**

"Here's your paper, sir." James said to Mr. Baxter, a storekeeper, as he handed him the _Pennsylvania Gazette's_ February 1st edition.

"That's alright, lad. Keep your paper." Mr. Baxter glanced around nervously, forcing a smile.

"But you ordered the paper for this month." James said, still holding it up.

"I ordered in January." said Mr. Baxter quietly, continuing to push the paper away. "That was before more Redcoats started moving into Philadelphia. They'll be repercussions if we're caught reading a Patriot paper."

"What?" asked James, looking at him. Mr. Baxter nodded through the window to a poster across the street. James couldn't make out the type from there, so Mr. Baxter explained.

"It's a poster saying that if anyone is caught reading propaganda they'll face sedition punishments from the British soldiers."

James' face went white. "You mean people will stop wanting the _Gazette_?"

Mr. Baxter patted James' shoulder kindly. "You're a good journalist, lad, and the _Gazette_ is a fine paper. But I ain't reading anything that could get me thrown in jail!" he reached into a barrel by the desk of his store and pulled out a piece of candy, giving it to James, and handed him the edition of the Gazette. "I'll pay you for the month, but I don't want the paper."

When James trudged back to the print shop later that day, the same fate had befallen Moses and Henri who had set out to deliver the papers as well.

"Well," said Moses, "You really can't blame them. Reading the paper is now against the law. I'm surprised that so many people _did_ take their copy."

"What are you talking about? They're patriots! It's their responsibility." James frowned and handed his candy to Henri, who took it and immediately devoured it.

"Perhaps not everyone is as eager to be arrested as you are, James." Sarah observed from her letter. James frowned.

"Will we keep printing the paper?" he asked. Moses nodded.

"As long as the British let us stay in the print shop, we'll print the truth to anyone who will read."

* * *

James had stayed up late in his room and was just falling asleep when he heard it. A sharp bang, mixing with the sounds of shattering glass. Bolting upright, he threw on his coat in anticipation of escape and headed for Henri's room. After ascertaining that the younger boy was alright, they both headed for Sarah's room.

Sarah had been awakened by the noise as well and was standing in the hall. "What was that?" she whispered. James nervously shrugged and Henri shrank against Sarah.

The children crept downstairs and into the shadows, but then saw that there was no immediate danger. Moses stood outside, looking up and down the street, while a rock rested around pieces of glass just in front of the hole through their window.

"My goodness." whispered Sarah. Moses walked back into the house.

"It could have been anyone." he said grimly. "The bad news is that we'll have to board up that window until I can get some more glass. Come on everyone, back to bed." Sarah, becoming aware of her current state of undress, was already half-way up the stairs when Moses remembered the item he had behind the wood box.

He picked the item up, then looked at James and Henri's retreating forms. James was fourteen—almost a man, but he still had growing up to do, and Henri was even younger.

At the same time, he had to worry about their safety in the practically-occupied city of Philadelphia. Giving a sigh, he wedged the musket back behind the woodbox and went back to bed.

It was at breakfast when Moses decided to announce the day's activity. "James, Henri, I want to take you outside the city and show you two how to use a gun."

There was silence around the table, then Sarah announced, "I would like to go as well, Moses. I don't want to be here alone."

"No! Moses, girls don't use guns." James complained, "And I don't want to, either."

"Neither do I!" Henri crossed his arms.

"I know, boys. Sarah, you should come with us. I don't want to leave anyone in the house by themselves." Moses looked serious. Sarah looked satisfied, but her expression soon changed to worry.

"Will we need a gun, Moses?"

"I don't know, Sarah." said Moses honestly.

"I hope not." said James, remembering the soldiers and the broken window.

"I will defend ze house!" announced Henri, jumping up and marching around the table with a stick from the woodbox as his weapon. Unable to see past his illusions of grandeur, he laughed at his own display. Moses frowned. He wanted to teach these children how to protect themselves, but he didn't want to make them unsafe.

But he was teaching them to fire the musket for their own protection, too.

He rose and picked up the musket, which dissolved Henri's pantomime and made all three children shrink back slightly at the very real sign of their changing world.

* * *

"Now, James," said Moses, next to him as he aimed the gun towards a tree, "Hold it like this. Good. Be careful—now put your fingers here..."

Eventually, a shot rang out through the woods, making Sarah and Henri jump. It was not, however, James who had fired. "I'm sorry, Moses." he apologized as he watched the older man demonstrate again.

Moses frowned as he held the weapon safely. "It's alright, James. This is just a precaution anyway."

There had not been much luck with the musket that day. James and Henri could barely fire the gun, much less on target.

Another shot rang out. James glanced at the gun in Moses' hand.

The gun that had not fired.

Which meant there was another gun somewhere in the forest, and it was going off.

"Hurry. Down here." said Moses, quickly hiding himself and the children in the scrub. Try didn't have long to wait before a small group of British soldiers, probably scouts, tramped past them. Moses had a hand on Sarah's arm and another on James' to keep both children from saying anything to inadvertently alert the British to their position.

After the British had long been gone, Moses quickly ushered his charges out of the forest and back to the print shop.

At the print shop, the mail had arrived. A letter from Sarah's mother, a few contacts with information, a few letters for Dr. Franklin, and one addressed to Moses, which he immediately read, then set down.

"James, Henri, Sarah." he called them. "Come here."

"What is it, Moses?" asked James, excited. "Has someone given us a lead?"

"No." he said. "I want to talk to you all about what happened today."

"We hid in the forest from the soldiers." recalled Henri, looking confused. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I," said Sarah. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm sure you've all seen the sedition posters." said Moses sternly. "And the added amount of British soldiers in the city."

All the children nodded.

"By printing the paper, we are breaking the British law." Sarah seemed displeased at this but said nothing, letting Moses go on, "I have written to the wife of a prominent Son of Liberty and a friend of Dr. Franklin—John Adams' wife, Mrs. Abigail Adams. I have asked her to give you shelter for a few weeks, until the British withdraw. I have heard they're just waiting for orders but their commanders have no support for advancing further North, into the countryside."

"I'm not going anywhere!" shouted James, crossing his arms and turning away. Henri mimicked the action.

"Neither am I!"

"I'm sorry, Moses, but I cannot go either." said Sarah. "I will not be the only one to leave."

"You don't even believe in our cause!" protested James. "Besides, you'll just get into trouble."

"With whom?" Sarah demanded. "I am British, after all. It's not as if I wish to go around, _inciting rebellion_."

Moses interrupted the brewing argument by stepping between the feuding children. "Are you all sure you won't go?" he asked tiredly. All three children glanced at each other, then voiced their agreement.

"Then hurry yourselves," said Moses as he moved towards the press quickly. "It's one and we've already spent part of the day." the children followed him. With the blotter, type, and written copy of the Gazette, Henri, James, and Sarah directed themselves to different tasks in an effort to get the paper out before evening that day.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Are you sure about this, James?" asked Moses. "What about you, Sarah? We understand if—"

"It isn't an ideal situation." Sarah admitted, pulling on her cloak. "But I admit that although this law is necessary, it isn't fair to the colonists and I'm willing to help my friends." she glanced around quickly after her statement to see if anyone had reacted to her choice of words and her eyes uncertainly met James'. This was the first time she had referred to the occupants of the print shop as friends out loud.

She quickly looked away to hand Henri his coat, "Put this on, Henri, it's cold out."

"Cold? Pah!" the little french boy feigned disgust. "It is not cold outside."

"You may think that now, but we'll be out for most of the night." James reminded him, pulling on his own coat. "And I think it's beginning to snow." he glanced out the window at the rapidly falling white flakes. Already the ground was thinly coated.

The group had decided to deliver the paper to the patriots still reading it under cover of darkness, but all four of them going on the errand would leave the print shop unattended. Since the incident with the broken window the night before, Moses had decided that he would stay behind. James, Sarah and Henri had insisted on going. Sarah, an excellent rider, would provide transportation for James and Henri. It would be slow going with three passengers but it would get done.

"It's dark now. We're wasting time." said James. "Goodbye, Moses." Sarah and Henri echoed the peasantry.

"Be careful." cautioned Moses, and the children filed out of the back of the print shop.

* * *

"We're coming up to the last house." whispered Sarah as she walked their horse up to the gate. They could not go at a faster pace without drawing attention.

"Come on, Henri!" it was nearly dark and James fumbled with the paper before stepping off and handing it to Henri. The boys had been trading off the job of setting the paper by the back door, and it was Henri's turn. Henri crept towards the house as quietly as possible.

"Hello, what's all this 'ere?"

Sarah and James both turned as they saw two British soldiers riding towards them. Henri was hidden by the house, and James could barely see his face looking out from around the corner. He knew how to get back from here, and he could go back to the print shop. But him and Sarah on the horse?

"Don't lead them to the shop." he whispered to Sarah, who nodded and set off quickly the way they came as the two soldiers came closer.

She brought the horse to a canter with the soldiers pursuing, but she knew they wouldn't be able to keep it up very long—not with two riders, not in the snow, and not in a narrow city street. So she turned and began to ride towards the woodland, out of the city.

They rode in a most haphazard fashion, the horse being the only able to see where they were going, and horses never take into account the added height of their riders, earning Sarah and James a great many pelts from branches. Small twigs scraped their face and caught on their clothes and Sarah's hair.

Both children could still hear the British shouting behind them, so they kept going. A larger branch scratched the side of Sarah's face as they rode past and became entangled in her hair. The horse didn't stop and the branch was pulled to its full length before part of it broke off in her hair. She bit her lip.

Being able to see barely anything except the falling snow, both children kept their heads as low as possible. Sarah held onto the neck of the horse and the reins, and James held onto the sides of the saddle. Both children could clearly hear the British soldiers behind them.

James was half-excited as they continued to ride. He rather wished he was the one with the reins, but that couldn't be helped at the moment. He was also panicking, but only in the back of his mind where things were slightly more thought through. Even with his head down, he could feel the air, made colder by their fast pace.

They turned again, sharply, and a rather large, low-hanging tree bough smacked James squarely in the head and almost knocked him off before he grabbed back onto the saddle. By now his eyes had adjusted to the dark, but the woodland was a blur around him as the horse sped onwards.

Suddenly Sarah slowed to a walk, then stopped. "Can you hear them anymore?"

"No." James replied, out of breath. "Let's turn back."

"Alright," said Sarah. "Which way?"

Unfortunately for both of them, it was pitch dark and snowing. "I don't know." he confessed, looking around. Sarah shivered. "We'll have to wait until morning to find our way out."

"James!" if she had been on the ground, and English girls did that sort of thing, Sarah might've stamped her foot.

"Don't blame me. Your precious Redcoats chased us into the forest."

"You live here. You are supposed to know where we are." James hopped down from the horse. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to sleep. I'm tired." James lay down in the snow. Sarah glared at the patch of dark retreating underneath a tree, tied the horse so it couldn't run during the night, and did the same.

Except it was really quite cold, and the snow was wet and seeping into their cloak and coat, and the wind was blowing hard, and snow was melting on their faces, and the ground was hardened from the cold.

Even so, both children were tired from the ride and the late night. Eventually both the loyalist and the patriot fell asleep underneath their respective trees.

* * *

"James, wake up." The young journalist opened his eyes to see Sarah looking at him nervously. He frowned as morning light filtered into his eyes.

"Sarah? Where...where are we?" suddenly he remembered the events of the night before. Sarah bit her lip, looking around.

"I believe the better question is who are we with." she murmured, glancing away. "Don't say anything."

James sat up fully and looked around to see at least ten armed and unfriendly British soldiers. He opened his mouth and shut it again.

"Get up, boy." a soldier prodded him in the back with his boot and both children rose and followed the Redcoats, soldiers flanking them in all sides. James sent an alarmed look towards Sarah. She slightly raised her shoulders and opened her palms, indicating that she didn't know where they were going or what was going to happen to them once there.

Silently James wondered if Henri had made it back to the print shop and if he and Moses were alright. A glance at Sarah showed that his thoughts mirrored his.

They continued onwards.

James couldn't tell how long they walked—it was tiring and the going was hard in the snow, which was significantly deeper then it had been the night before. Both he and Sarah were wet and cold, rendering their overgarments useless.

"Where's our horse?" asked Sarah loudly, trying for snobby British aristocrat, but soaking and shivering, her attempt backfired.

The soldier said nothing but James saw that a soldier behind them was leading the animal.

"Sir, you have no right to—"

"There's a curfew, miss. Care to tell us why you weren't obeying it—out with your young man?"

Sarah blanched. "What? He's not...he's...we got lost and couldn't find our way back to our home." she glanced at James. Then, "James is sick!" she rushed to continue. "James is sick and he needs to ride our horse. He can't walk any more." she coughed, then kicked James in the ankle very hard.

He fell into the snow and took the hint. Sarah coughed again and loudly, rattling her entire body. Taking her example, James forced himself to cough as well. The soldiers looked at him and sighed. "Fine. Get on the horse, lad." said the soldier who appeared to be in charge.

Sarah helped him up and towards the horse. "Here, James, lean on me." she said, ignoring the glare he leveled at her. She mounted the horse herself, then pulled James up to the front.

"James," she whispered, "Can you tell the way back to the print shop from here from here?"

James nodded. The British encampment was just outside Philadephia, but the city was already completely visible from where they were. Sarah leaned over and in a moment had the reins from the tired soldier leading the horse. The horse galloped through the redcoats, who quickly began giving chase.

Sarah glanced behind them so see the soldiers' horses following them closely. They were approaching the city streets now, and the shops passed by in a blur. The only thing clear were their pursuers.

Their pursuers who were going to catch them. Their horses were fresher, though James knew the area better, and there were more of them.

Suddenly James directed the horse around a corner and another one, losing them for the moment. Not many people were about, it being so early in the morning, which was a blessing. One of their British-sympathetic neighbors might have pointed the soldiers towards them again.

Both of them leapt down and James tied the horse before the two pursued children ran inside, safe and currently still free. Sounds of the British soldiers riding past the shop could be heard outside.

The window was still, thankfully, boarded up, so there was no danger of anyone seeing them from outside. Moses was the first to spot them from his place at the coat rack. "James! Sarah! You're alright! We were just going out to look for you."

Henri came bounding down the stairs. "Zhames! Zharah! Did you fight ze Redcoats?" he made swordfighting motions with his arms before James caught him playfully. "You're all wet!" he exclaimed, wriggling away.

"We most certainly did not fight any British soldiers." said Sarah primly, wringing out her hair and sleeves. "I'm going upstairs—good day." she coughed again before heading for the stairwell.

"I haven't sent the letter to Mrs. Adams telling her you won't be coming yet." said Moses. "You're all certain I can't convince you to stay with her?"

All the children nodded, including Henri. Sarah looked down at herself. If someone had told her a few months before that she would be dripping wet from a night spent in the snow after hiding from British soldiers because she had helped to deliver treasonous papers, and that she had escaped from and defied the same British soldiers, she would have called them mad.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It means a lot.**

Chapter Five:

Sarah and Henri were setting the table for luncheon when a knock sounded at the door. Both children, plus James, came forward to answer it, but scattered when Moses came to the door and looked through the keyhole.

"The constable." he said softly before opening the door. The others exchanged alarmed glances and Henri turned to Sarah, who was closest to him, to ask why he was visiting.

Sarah frowned in reply. "I do not know, Henri." she said, pulling him against herself and closing her arms around his shoulders protectively as the constable and one of his men entered.

It was easy to see why. The constable was a reasonable man of average build but the man he had brought with him was huge and cruel-looking. James inadvertently stepped towards Sarah and Henri as well, glancing nervously at the constable's man.

"Moses," said the constable by way of greeting. "My man, William. William, this is Moses, Dr. Franklin's assistant."

Moses greeted both men. William grunted in reply. James, Sarah, and Henri moved closer together as if they could create a wall to block out the unwelcome guests.

Suddenly Sarah remembered her manners. "I'll fix everyone some tea." she said quickly, hurrying to the stove to put on the kettle. She was anxious enough to fumble with the tea as she got it out from the cupboard and continued to glance at the three men seated at the table, with Henri and James standing awkwardly to the side.

"Something you came for, constable?" asked Moses politely. The constable nodded.  
"Moses, I've known you and Dr. Franklin for years. I know that four years ago, he took on..." he paused nervously before Moses relieved the poor man of uncertainty.

"James. This is James."

"Right. James, here, as an apprentice, and he's a good lad, I suppose—some mischief, perhaps, but doesn't everyone get into some when they're young? He shows dedication to his trade, at the very least.

"Then, a year later, you take...er, this shorter one, in with you as well. An orphan, isn't he?"

Moses nodded. "Is that what we came to discuss, sir?"

"Be patient. Now, I don't need to tell you of the laws passed here in Philadelphia. I'm sure you know that your paper isn't...exactly on the right side of things anymore. Dr. Franklin has been disgraced."

"In England, constable. We believe the laws of England aren't subject to Americans." James said.

"You see, Moses!" he slammed his hand down on the table. "You've taught...er, John...your treasonous sayings. I don't want to have to arrest anyone, especially not someone as young as Harry, here."

"And I hope you won't have to do that, sir." said Moses, glancing at James, Sarah, and Henri. "But we only print the truth."

"You can I both know that isn't the problem. Moses, you have children in the house. It's your responsibility to protect them, not let them aid you in breaking the law. And what do you think would happen to Sylvia here if everyone else in the house went to jail?"

"Will you be arresting us, then?" he asked, glancing at the children, who were exchanging half-nervous, half-amused glances at both his threats and his fumbles with their names.

"I have children of my own, Moses." replied the constable. "I can't send these boys to jail." he frowned. "I'll give you three days to shut up this foolish business—that is, if the British don't decide to enforce their own laws before that."

"I thought you believed in American freedom, too!" said James loudly, knowing the man had never been shy before about declaring himself a patriot. The constable glared.

"As I said, I have children, and I care about what will happen to them—as you should, Moses. I just wanted to discuss this with you."

"It's been discussed, then." he said rather cooly. "Good day, gentlemen." the constable took the hint and picked up his hat.

"Good day, Moses, Jacob, Susanna, Harold." he bowed and left with William.

Henri looked at the older children. "Are we to be arrested?"

"No, never. Not as long as we can help it. Even if it is where some _zealots_ belong." Sarah glanced at James to prove her point, then coughed and crossed her arms as if she could repel the legal system of the colonies with a glare.

"It's the redcoats." said James, with no little dislike. "If we were free, this wouldn't happen. They couldn't just come in here and arrest us for the truth."

"We need to be careful." said Moses. "Staying here is just going to get harder and harder—and more dangerous."

The children looked up at him, their mirrored expressions easy to read. No one was leaving.

* * *

Sarah was writing a letter to her mother, telling her of the day's events, when James looked in on her. "It's cold in here!" he exclaimed upon entry, noticing the open windows letting in all the cold February air.

"It is not." replied Sarah. "Something you want, James?"

"Have you fallen ill, Sarah?" he asked. "Moses could send you to Mrs. Adams if you're sick."

"I am not ill." said Sarah, annoyed and raising her voice slightly. "The room is just a bit too hot for my liking. Is that all you came in for?"

"I was going to ask if you had a spare inkwell. I'm out." Sarah surveyed her own inkwell.  
"My apologies. I am almost out of ink as well and I don't have a spare, either."

"Fie. Well, I'll go ask Moses."

Sarah coughed before signing thVe letter. She opened her window wider and coughed again.

James walked towards Moses, who had his head in a cupboard. "Moses, do we have any ink?"

"Not that I'm aware of." replied the man, shutting the cupboard. "Fresh out. We'll have to buy some more—I think it's light enough for you to go on your own if you will, James."

"Alright," agreed James. Since the particular store that sold the ink in large enough quantities for the press—a Tory store, but the only vendor in the city—didn't take credit, Moses handed James some moneynotes. "You know to get four of the largest containers? This should be enough."

"I'll be back quickly." promised James, stepping out of the shop. Outside, people walked about, doing their shopping or just moving from place to place, but there were less people out then usual. James wondered if some of them had fled the city like Moses wanted the children to.

Pushing open the door of the shop, James quickly found the ink he was looking for and brought it to the shopkeeper for payment. But the shopkeeper shook his head.  
"Keep your money, boy." he said, "You work for Dr. Franklin's paper, don't you?"

Blankly James nodded.

"Aren't you aware that he's a traitor to the Crown? I won't be supporting him or his paper—no worker of his is to patronize my shop." he pushed the ink away and one of his assistants quickly replaced it.

"But you're the only shop in the city that sells enough." James mostly-shouted. "Why won't you let us buy ink from you? You end up receiving payment anyway!"

"You're using it to print the paper! If reading the paper's sedition, I hate to think what printing it is. Be off, lad." he waved his hand as if to swat James away.

James had no intention of leaving, but one of the shop workers was much stronger and hauled him out, shutting the door behind him. Ignoring the stares of everyone around him and deciding it not worth the risk of trying to reenter James turned back, embarrassment and anger burning inside of his head.

He stormed back into the house seeing only red, and ignoring Moses' queries on where the ink was or what had happened until Moses grabbed his arm. "James! Answer me."

"They won't sell us ink because we're patriots and Dr. Franklin isn't a loyalist! It's not fair, Moses! They're judging us on our beliefs and they're not treating us equally!" James got louder every word he spoke, and he hadn't started out quietly. Sarah and Henri both appeared at the stairwell.

"James," said Sarah wearily, "Is it so much to ask that you stop shouting? It's very rude."  
The sound of her accented voice simply angered him further. Ignoring her, James continued. "The Tory threw me out of his shop. If I could get my hands on him, I'd—"

"Do absolutely nothing, I should hope." interrupted Sarah. "He's just obeying the law and standing up for what he believes in—as you demand your right to do so."

"That's different," scoffed James. "I—"

"She's right." agreed Moses. "If you want freedom, it means freedom for everyone, or we're just as bad as the British—no disrespect, Sarah—even the people who you don't particularly like. Freedom of speech to hear things you don't like, freedom of actions to people who you don't agree with."

James sulked, not understanding the point. Moses sighed. "Someone will have to go to the next city to get more ink. They have a shop there that sells enough, and they're sure to sell to us. They're all patriots."

"I'll go." volunteered James immediately, followed by Sarah and Henri's echoes of the same offer.

"It's a day's ride from here, maybe more—James and Sarah, you're both probably known to all the King's army, and Henri could be found by that Captain Wright again. Or one of his men. Besides, it would be too dangerous for any of you. I'll go."

"Moses!" complained James, secretly thanking God he hadn't had to go. Not at night, not with all the soldiers.

"Then it's settled. I'll leave tomorrow morning—we need this ink soon for the next issue of the paper."

"But, Moses," Henri volunteered, uncharacteristically nervous sounding, "If you are out buying ink, we'll be alone in Philadelphia. What if ze soldiers come?"

"I don't think the soldiers will attack the print shop, Henri. If they planned to arrest us they probably would've by now. I'll be back soon." Henri seemed visibly relieved.

Over the head of the younger boy, James and Sarah exchanged worried glances. What Moses had said wasn't necessarily true. The soldiers could attack at any time. Sarah was British and probably wouldn't be punished, since she was the daughter of a Major—unless the soldiers remembered her from their last brush with disaster. James and Henri, on the other hand, could be put in prison. James might even be hanged. And what surprise would be awaiting Moses when he came back from getting the ink?

They had the musket, but would it be of any use if no one in the house could fire it? And even if Moses was there should the soldiers attack, there wouldn't be much he could do against them versus without him. Not to mention what would happen the the constable's three days were up.

"You'll be careful, won't you, Moses?" Sarah bit her lip and coughed.

"Of course, Sarah. Do you need anything for your throat? We can take you to the apothecary—" Moses looked concerned. Sarah shook her head rapidly.

"Certainly not, Moses. I feel fine. A bit of water shall do for me." Sarah quickly set about preparing said water.

The next morning, Moses made his departure. All the remaining occupants of the house watched anxiously until he was out of sight. James and Sarah glanced at one another again as Henri went into the house with them, both sharing fears.

"I'll—" Sarah coughed and leant against the table for support. "I'll make some tea." no one argued. The house felt eerie in the nervous silence, and the children were tense.  
James tried to convince himself he was being stupid, but he couldn't get over the fear that it would not be an easy day-and-one-half without Moses.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for all the reviews! Hope you like this chapter :) **

**Yeah, things are starting to get really, really bad for our favorite revolutionary children.**

Chapter Six:

"ZARAH! ZARAH, COME QUUUUICK!" Henri's panicked scream sounded throughout the shop. Sarah, upstairs in her room, staring blankly at the empty page she had intended to fill, was violently wretched from her reverie.

"Goodness gracious, Henri! What is so—" Sarah's scolding was cut short when Henri pulled her over to the Franklin stove, where an overflowing kettle sizzled on the hot burner.

"Eet's boiling over! Zarah, do something! Have I broken the stove? It's making strange noises! Do something!" Henri jumped excitedly. Sarah grabbed a rag from the table and used it to pick up the hot kettle and set it on the table. She coughed.

"It's alright, Henri. It'll dry off the stove soon enough and then we can pour out some water. You just filled it too full is all."

"Still teaching Henri how to cook, Sarah? I thought you were too highbred for that." laughed James, stepping into the room. Sarah crossed her arms.

"I don't know how to cook, James. If I did, I would, and save myself from what Moses tries to make..." she spoke slowly, as if concentrating on her words, as she took cups out of the cupboard—one for her, and one for Henri. She paused, deliberating before turning back. "James, do you want some tea?"

"Tea is for torys," scowled James, "and little French shrimps. Everyone drinks coffee now."

"Most of your patriots drink tea still, James." Sarah argued wearily. "Coffee is for heathens, and when you tried it, you spit it out."

"I did not!" lied James defensively. "...It was just bitter, that's all."

"Anyway, this tea was made with leaves from the colonies' very own countryside. Mint and such. No 'Tory' tea here, I fear." Sarah went for the box of tea.

"Fine, I'll have some..." mumbled James. Sarah turned back to the cupboard.

"Does Moses—" she cut herself off. "I keep forgetting Moses is gone."

It seemed as if February had finally made up its mind and decided to herald spring, melting the snow and warming the air slightly, but house felt cold even in the sunlight. All of the residents were tense and stiff, jumping at the slightest sound. Sarah continued to glance nervously at the door and tilted the teapot too far back, making tea run down the spout and puddle on the table. James didn't smirk when he normally would have laughed, instead looking around anxiously. Today they were all on edge.

Sarah didn't even seem to notice until Henri tugged at her sleeve. She looked tired—but then, James supposed they all did. She nodded to the teacups and sat down, laying her head on the table.

"Are you alright, Sarah?" he asked, Henri echoing the question. Sarah glanced up, then nodded.

"I'm fine." she coughed, flattening her hand over her mouth as to muffle the sound.

"I can't hardly believe Moses left so early in the morning." he tested. She nodded and lay her head back down.

James stared at her a second longer, frowning. This wasn't like her—he had even used 'can't' wrong, and she hadn't corrected him! She always corrected his grammar.

Henri spilled his tea on his arm and yelled, jolting him out of his thoughts.

* * *

The day passed agonizingly slowly. The children had nothing to do but all silently refused to leave the house. Sarah spent the day in her room, James, attempting to overcome a severe case of writer's block caused by having absolutely no news to report, and Henri wandered about the shop, kicking the furniture and complaining of his older companions' solitude, the cold, the British, and whatever else he could think of.

When the house grew dark, it seemed to grow even colder as well. After supper the children were reluctant to leave for their corners of the shop, opting instead to continue sitting around the table, preferring the small bit of security their companions' presences afforded them.

James' thought was cut off by a knock at the door. It's effects on the high-strung, anxious children were profound—all of them jumped.

Since she was a British girl and British girls do not get frightened by knocks on doors, Sarah quickly sprung to open it. Since he was an American boy and American boys are not frightened by their neighbors, James, close behind her, greeted the man. Since he was a French boy and French boys have nothing to prove to anyone, Henri hid behind the printing press.

"Mr. Hill, what are you doing here at this hour?" the man stood holding his hat. Sarah nudged James out of the way to open the door wider.

"Come in, sir." he shook his head.

"I'd best be leaving now—only I knew you children was alone and I didn't want to see you in prison—or worse."

"What is it?" Sarah and James asked at the same time.

"My brother's wife has a nephew in the British army. I can't understand it, but there it is—and part of his regiment is planning to seize control of your shop tonight."

"What?" Sarah exclaimed. James looked like he was choking on air.

"They plan to arrest you all for treason, install loyalist printers instead, and continue printing a loyalists' '_Gazette_'—I'm sorry you had to hear it."

"They can't do that! That—that's not right!" James practically shouted. Sarah put a hand on his arm to silence him.

"I shouldn't have come. I just didn't want you children caught unawares—I imagine you have a few hours, at the most. Have a safe night, now." said Mr. Hill, hurrying back towards his own home.

As soon as the door was shut, James jumped up. "We need to write and tell the colonists what's happening. The colonists must be made aware of the injustice."

"James, you just heard what he told us." Sarah said, startled into a momentary argumentive state. "Soldiers are coming to arrest us. Perhaps we should decide what we are to do when they come, instead of printing a pamphlet?"

"If the soldiers come, we'll hold out for as long as we can." replied James. "We can put the table across the door."

"The soldiers have muskets, James! And there will be more than one." Sarah said, exasperated.

Henri looked at the two older children, caught up in their brewing argument. "Will we be arrested?" he asked. James and Sarah both looked at each other.

"No, Henri." said James. "No one is getting arrested."

"Boston is only a few days from here. We could ride to the house of that Mrs. Adams Moses wanted us to go to." suggested Sarah, sitting down. James had also sat down and was writing furiously.

"Except that Moses has taken the horse." he replied. "Henri, we don't have much time. Start getting ready to print a page."

"James," said Sarah, "We have no ink."

"We might have enough for one page." argued James. "We can give one copy to another printer and they can print the rest of the copies for us. We can't not write about this, Sarah. A front page story is happening to us!" even he seemed less excited then normal about the prospect.

"If we do have to leave, it would be best to bring some food—and money." said Sarah. "I'll put some in a satchel."

"What about Moses?" asked Henri anxiously. "He will know we've gone, but will he know where?"

"We can't just leave a note and tell him. The soldiers could find it." said James thoughtfully.

"Where are we going anyway?" asked Henri.

"I guess we'll have to go to Mrs. Adams' house on foot." said James. "And we can print the pamphlet in Boston."

"But Boston has just as many soldiers as Philadelphia." frowned Henri. "What if zhey recognize you and I and Zharah?"

"It's been months since we were there. No one would still be looking for us." replied James. "I hope Moses remembers that he wanted us to go to Boston."

"I don't understand it," said Sarah, coming downstairs from her packing. "There are other printers in town. Why haven't they been seized?"

"Dr. Franklin is disliked by many British officials." said James. "They probably want to make an example of him by stealing his paper."

"But zhat isn't fair to Dr. Franklin!" Henri said.

"And that's why we need independence." announced James. Sarah coughed and crossed her arms, obviously in disagreement.

James and Henri continued setting the type, going faster now that Sarah could read for them.

"...businesses everywhere have been seized and residents scared into obeying unjust laws, and the—" suddenly she fell silent.

"Do you hear zhat?" Henri asked.

The sounds of marching coming towards the shop sent all three occupants into panic.

"Hurry up, Henri." said James, beginning to work faster. Sarah continued to read, picking up the satchel. A knock came from the locked door.

James quickly went towards the table and Sarah and Henri, seeing what he wanted to do, helped him push it over and in front of the door. It wouldn't buy them more then a few extra minutes, though.

Sarah scanned the page to see where she had left off. "...British continue to commit intolerable acts." she breathed a sigh of relief. "Done." James and Henri pushed the type onto the page quickly, printing one admittedly-faint page, which James shoved into his pocket.

The banging at the door continued. "Open up. His Majesty's Army." demanded a voice outside. The children looked at each other, fear written on their faces.

"Should we break the window, sir?" asked one soldier.

Silence, then the first soldier began to speak again. "Right. Davids, Johnson, get on that. It be quiet about it. No need to wake up all the townspeople."

"They don't want anyone to know when we're arrested!" whispered James indignantly, stepping forward like his intention was to fight the British. Sarah lightly pulled on his arm.

"James, we must leave _now_." she hissed, staring at the door. It was beginning to splinter and there were sounds of banging at the window.

"But—" a large splinter of wood from the door fell onto the table. James turned, and all three children ran out the back door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven:**

"Do you zhink zhey'll burn ze shop?" whispered Henri as the children crept behind the row of buildings next to the print shop. The soldiers wouldn't see them and they would come out on the end of the street, away from the British. They could then go forwards one street over and be out of town before dawn.

Sarah coughed, effectively muffling the sound with her hands. "I don't think so, Henri. They don't want anyone to know what's happened, remember?"

As they crossed to the next street over, all the children breathed a sigh of relief. They weren't exactly safe, but they were farther away from danger.

They continued to walk silently for most of the night, James, who knew the streets best, leading them. He thought about their course. After Pennsylvania, they would go through New York, Connecticut, and most of Massachusetts, which would take them around five or six days. They had a map from Dr. Franklin's office; one he had printed and was by a Mr. Lewis Evans, and it showed them the way.

Well, roughly. To be quite honest, the only thing the map was really useful for was that Boston was above Philadelphia. So they had to keep moving up.

Despite what Sarah thought, the colonies were not so uncivilized. There were ways to get to Boston from Philadelphia through mostly populated areas. James knew from experience; when he, Moses and Henri had first met Sarah and they had traveled entirely by wagon.

As the sun came up, Sarah passed around apples and bread. No one had spoken for several hours, not wanting to attract attention. As the city they were passing awoke and people began to fill the streets, Sarah, James and Henri began to speak normally.

"Will we be stopping off to sleep?" Sarah asked practically. She coughed.

"We'll have to. On foot it will take us days to reach Boston—five or six." James replied as they continued.

"Can we ztop now? My feet 'urt!" Henri complained, making Sarah smile tiredly.

"We'd better hurry if we want to make it to Mrs. Adam's house soon." James reminded them. "Don't waste your breath."

"How do you know so much about travel all of a sudden, James?" asked Sarah, raising her eyebrows in jest.

"I grew up on the streets, remember?" said James with a half smile. They continued to walk. Spots danced in front of Sarah's eyes before she blinked them away.

Several hours later, the sky was darkening as it does in February, and the air around them was cooling as well. James looked at the other two children. "We'll have to stop for the night." he announced.

"Where?" asked Sarah, pushing strands of unkept hair out of her face and looking around the city street they were on. James shrugged.

"Against a building. Doesn't matter which—just not too near a tavern."

Sarah coughed, opened her mouth to argue, and decided it wasn't worth it. It was just going to get colder—they were moving closer and closer to the North, albeit slowly. James suddenly stopped in front of a shop, sat down against it, and pulled his knees to his chest.

Immediately Henri mimicked him, sitting down next to him and quickly falling asleep despite the uncomfortable state. Poor boy, Sarah thought. He was younger then either of them, and probably more tired too. She stared for a moment but eventually her exhaustion won out over her propriety, sitting down a safe distance from James.

"Hopefully we'll reach farmland soon." he said, looking out over the buildings. "It might be where the stories are, but I'd rather be in the country then the city."

"I thought—well, if you don't mind me asking, didn't you grow up in the city after your parents were..." Sarah pulled her cloak around herself and coughed, trailing off.

"I was only a baby when it happened. My aunt and uncle took me in for a while, and my uncle was a farmer in Virginia."

"Why aren't you with them now?" asked Sarah.

"I ran away." replied James with a hint of pride. "When I was six. I liked the farm, but I didn't like my aunt and uncle. My uncle'd yell too much, and beat his servers and slaves when they did things wrong. And my aunt would hit her maid if she didn't do things correctly, even though the maid didn't speak English! I couldn't stand it in that house, so I ran away and was living on the streets in Richmond when I learned of Dr. Franklin and his lightning rod."

"Oh, my." muttered Sarah. Her cousins would surely faint if they heard such a thing. And that he was a traveling companion, no less. "But surely they looked for you?"

"They didn't pay attention to me anyway." scoffed James. "They put me in with the servants—I liked them better then my aunt and uncle."

"But didn't they send you to school, or hire a tutor, or take you to church, or—" James shook his head and shrugged a little sadly.

"I went to church with the servants—my aunt and uncle didn't care for me or my parents."

"That sounds terrible. My problems—" Sarah coughed. "seem..._are_...so pointless. Nothing in life really mattered." she looked away.

"Correction: _were. _You have some important problems now." James suggested, trying to be lighearted. Sarah frowned and he spoke more seriously. "It's not...you're not..."

Sarah turned her head to the side, furrowing her eyebrows.

"I think you're—not—dull. For a girl. And a loyalist, I mean." he spoke quickly. She paused for a second, then smiled slightly.

"That was very gentlemanly of you, James." she hesitated. "Thank you."

Silence. Time passed. Both children felt themselves start to drift off.

Suddenly a dog barked in the distance. Sarah shivered. Something clattered loudly. Glancing at each other, the two moved closer together.

Well, it was cold, after all.

* * *

Sounds of waking city forced James to open his eyes. He glanced at Henri, on his left, who was still sleeping, then towards Sarah. He colored slightly when he realized they were leaning against one another. It explained why his left arm was cold while his right was not.

He didn't like to wake either of them up, but reluctantly decided they'd have to keep moving. He grabbed both of his companions' wrists to wake them. Henri shifted but didn't wake up. Sarah's eyes flew open.

"Your wrist is warm. It's _freezing_ out here." James observed suspiciously, grabbing her hand. Sarah yanked it away.

"Mind your own business—" she broke off and coughed, doubling over before straightening. She quickly turned her head away, not wanting to look at either of them. James shook Henri again and turned back to Sarah.

"You're sick! Why didn't you say anything?"

"I am not...very sick." she said quietly, catching her breath. Henri didn't get up, instead staring up at his two older companions in bewilderment, though wasn't the first time he had woken up to an argument between James and Sarah; be it a silent-treatment battle of wits or a full-on yelling match.

"If you get worse we'll never even _get_ to Boston!" James attempted to successfully mask his concern with his anger.

"I'll be fine!" she said a bit louder then she had meant to.

"You don't know that!"

"Why does it matter to you anyway?" asked Sarah, staring at his shoes.

He didn't answer. "Why wouldn't you say anything to Moses, at least?" Her shoulders slumped and she looked up, directly at him for the first time since the argument.

"I might be a British girl, but it doesn't mean I want to be sent away. And you know Moses would've. I would have been—" _alone_, she finished silently. Henri watched them, bored and confused.

She hadn't been alone since the voyage to America.

"I'll be fine." she said quietly.

"If you say so." he replied.

**A/N: Just when you thought James and Sarah could be having feels! But I hope you like the little moment anyway. Aww, James is CONCERNED! *feels***

**NEXT TIME IN FIREBRAND: James practices his journalism, Henri gets into some sadly familiar trouble, and Sarah gets sicker.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Important Announcement: This chapter has been revised. My OC is now not actually an original character at all, because I looked him up in a New Jersey registry and he was a real person. I wanted to put a real revolutionary war character into this chapter but couldn't something your in Newark.**

Chapter 8

_'Dear Mother,'_ Sarah composed the letter to her mother in her head as they walked. _'I am sorry to say that a great deal of Hardship has befallen Us since my last letter. James, Henri and Myself were very nearly attacked and jailed because of'_ here she paused and contemplated before continuing._ 'Circumstances under which We had no Control. There is a Gentlewoman in Boston who may take Us in until the Situation dies down, but We have no Horse and are walking instead. Unfortunately, I have become sick from spending a night wet and cold. I am attempting to keep my head, but We are all very tired.'_

Everyone was sore from walking the whole day before, and sleeping sitting up on cobblestones had not helped. Henri complained of hunger and Sarah handed him an apple. The air was so bitingly cold it hurt to breathe. The sun had come up and immediately been hidden behind clouds. All the children would have had trouble keeping awake if it weren't for the cold. Sarah tried to concentrate on her letter, but all she could think about was their journey and what might happen to them on the way.

"Do you know where we are?" Sarah asked, nodding to James. He shrugged and unfurled the Lewis Evans map and brought it close to his eyes. After a few minutes he nodded.

"We're passing through Newark right now." he announced. Newark was not a formally settled area yet but had houses and colonists.

Sarah pointed at two small, blue patches on the intricate map. "How are we going to get from Newark to New York without crossing _that_?"

"Water." muttered James. "We'll have to get across somehow. Maybe we can swim."

"I can't swim." Henri reminded them.

"Neither can I." said Sarah. She coughed.

"We'll think of something later then. When we come to it." James looked around, then ahead. "New York is a Tory colony." he complained a bit more loudly then he should've, earning him glares from the passersby. Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Keep your voice down, James. We hardly need to be arrested again."

Henri stumbled and tripped. James quickly helped him up. "We have to keep moving, Henri! Try to keep up." the uncomfortable night's sleep, little food, and general anxiety made all the children testy.

Suddenly a commotion rose ahead of them. The children exchanged curious glances before going forward a few steps to see better.

A two men scuffled in a doorway, one pushing the other out. A woman stood behind the defender, shouting something. "What's happening?" asked Sarah to James, coughing.

"Something interesting." he replied, sprinting towards it.

"James!" Sarah protested primly, before grabbing Henri's hand and following.

Wide-eyed, the children watched as the better-dressed man stumbled away, shouting obscenities and threats that they didn't listen to. Sarah shoved her hands over Henri's ears and wished she had another pair for herself. Henri wriggled away as the men put distance between themselves, and Sarah grabbed him firmly by the shirtsleeve. She was not going to be losing anyone in an unfamiliar town.

When she looked up to scold James, he was already talking to the man who had been in the fight. Henri ran up to him and she followed.

"Who was that?" James was asking, whipping out his notebook and pencil. The man crossed his arms as the children grouped themselves together. The man was tall, with harsh features, but his face relaxed slightly when he saw he was speaking to children.

"A tax collector from England. They think they can get away with whatever they want. It takes force to send them a message."

James nodded enthusiastically as he wrote, obviously in agreement. "And you just threw him out? Will he be coming back? Who am I quoting?"

The man frowned. "Daniel Holden, and I don't know. He might. And maybe this time he'll bring British soldiers. But none of my money is going to King George, s'blood!"

"Then I take it you're a patriot?" he asked.

"Most definitely! And what about you, young man, and your sister and brother?" he motioned to Sarah and Henri.

"I'm a patriot too, sir. And they're not my brother and sister, but Henri's a patriot too."

"No taxation without representation!" recited Henri passionately, still unaware of the words' meaning. Holden laughed and clapped him on the back.

"And your young lady?" he nodded to Sarah.

"Um, she's not my—" he broke off. "Sarah's a loyalist. How many people have turned away tax collectors in your town?"

"Will she say anything?" Holden asked, nodding to Sarah again. He didn't sound suspicious, however, just cautious, and James knew the answer.

"No."

"A few others. There aren't many of us—certainly less than in other colonies—but enough to tell old George we won't stand for this. Other parts of the colony are in full-out civil earl were's lucky."

In Sarah's house, if anyone from her adored cousin Tom to the lowliest scullery maid ever called His Majesty such a derogatory name, her father would have them removed from the premises. She tried not to look shocked.

"What brings you to Newark? Not too many people pass through, especially a crowd such as yourself." Holden asked.

"We come from Philadelphia." supplied James, for once proud of their escape. "The Redcoats tried to arrest us. We're going to _ouch. OUCH_!"

Sarah had stepped heavily onto her older-companion's foot and sent him a severe look. "What we mean, sir, is—"

Suddenly Henri tugged on Sarah and James' respective coat sleeves. "Look!"

Two British soldiers were coming up the street. Mr. Holden noticed the children's faces and opened the door wider. "You better come inside."

They needed no second invitation. The door shut behind them and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

"We haven't got many Redcoats here but we have our share." said Holden. "What's your quarrel with them—other than being patriots?"

"They didn't like our newspaper." said James. "We're walking to Boston." Holden's eyebrows rose.

"Do you know a way to cross the river?"

They shook their heads.

"Not many boats go down river." he warned. "The port is a quarter-of-an-hour away, and then you'll have to go down the Passaic until it opens into the bay. Then walk alongside the Hudson until you reach New York."

"Thank you, Mr. Holden." James said sincerely. Sarah and Henri echoed this as they looked through the window, seeing the British soldiers safely departed, and prepared to leave. Mr. Holden's voice stopped them.

"I have a boat."

* * *

"Here we are." Mr. Holden said, gesturing to the harbor. The boats were all river boats and canoes and most sailors were out on the river already, but a few still stood around talking. Most of the boats bobbed in the water, by the dock far down the street.

Suddenly Henri froze. "I can't go out there." he whispered.

"What are you talking about, Henri?" whispered Sarah, exchanging looks with James.  
"'im." said Henri, pointing to one for the sailors. "He was ze first mate on ze ship zhat—he hit me." he finished quietly.

"Oh, Henri, are you sure?" asked Sarah. He nodded miserably. Mr. Holden looked confused as the children did their best to comfort the younger boy.

"Perhaps he won't see us." James said quickly.

Sarah responded just as quickly. "Perhaps he will."

"We'll just walk quickly and keep Henri from being seen." said James. "It's been a few years anyway. He probably won't remember you."

Still confused, Mr. Holden pointed out his boat. Sarah grabbed Henri's hand. "Just keep your head down and don't look up for anything." slowly they began to walk towards the boats. The street seemed ten miles long.

The odd looking group attempted to do nothing to draw attention to themselves, but James couldn't help watching the sailor Henri was worried about from the corner of his eye.

Often when someone is being watched, no matter how discreetly, they will eventually look towards the person watching them, and suddenly James saw the man glance at their group.

Then he glanced at Henri again, harder.

"Don't look now." muttered James, staring straight ahead. Sarah closed her eyes as the man walked over, and suddenly an unfamiliar voice was breaking their silence.

"Who's this?" the man said roughly. Henri started to look up and James elbowed him. He snapped his head back down.

"Who?" said James dumbly.

"Him." he gestured to Henri and Sarah's grip tightened on his hand.

"Him?" she said, a bit too quickly. "He's my brother—Henry. Sir."

The sailor looked disbelievingly between the olive-complexioned, titan-haired boy and the pale redheaded girl. "Your brother?"

Sarah nodded uncertainly.

"Look up, boy."

"Sir, is there something you need?" said Mr. Holden, a bit loudly. The sailor glanced at the large man and turned away.

"I thought he looked familiar." he began walking away, muttering something that sounded like "Henry, indeed."

All three children breathed sighs of relief in unison. Mr. Holden looked at them strangely. "Have you children made enemies of half the colonies?"

"It's starting to seem that way." muttered James.

Positioning themselves so that James and Mr. Holden could row, the children couldn't help but argue quietly as the canoe began to move.

"I never knew there were so many patriots this far North. This'll be on the front page for sure." whispered James excitedly. He, Sarah, and Henri were sitting together on one side of the canoe for warmth. There wasn't much paddling to be done since they were following the current.

"Unless we're captured and put in jail, where you'll never write another word." whispered Sarah without jest. "Henri could've just been caught." she coughed.

"Well, he wasn't, was he? And it turned out for the best." argued James softly, looking away.

As much as he hated to admit it, Sarah was right.

Could he not even do this right?

This journey was just getting more and more dangerous. British soldiers were probably everywhere. They would have to cross water. Now Sarah was sick. And Henri had to be careful of every sailor he met. He wasn't the set leader of the children on this outing; rather he wasn't sure there was a leader. At the same time, there was no one to tell him what to do (Sarah didn't count.) For possibly the first time in his life James devoutly wished there was an adult ordering him around.

Unfortunately simply willing Moses or Dr. Franklin to appear would not do anything. He glanced at his companions, wondering if they felt the same.

* * *

**Okay, I MapQuested where our favorite patriotic trio are going and they have a walking mode. I add hours onto the walking mode because they have to sleep and they're kids so they'll go slower. Straight walking without any sleep at a constant rate it takes about four and a half days to get to Boston, so I gave them six.**

**But since they didn't have MapQuest in the 1700s, it falls to me to research if that city even existed at the time. And I have no idea of the terrain, so bear with me.**


	9. Chapter 9

**IMPORTANT:please go back and read chapter eight again, I edited it. It's mostly the same but please reread it quickly. :)**

**Hey. So, yeah, I finally updated. So sorry I was late, but crap went down. Dad got new kidney. I started high school.**

**Oh, an incase anyone got confused, before telephones were invented, 'hello' meant 'wow!'. When Edison was speaking into a telephone and found it worked, he said, 'Hello!' instead of, 'Ahoy-hoy!' which was what Alexander Grahm Bell wanted everyone to say. It caught on.**

**Yeah, I'll shut up now.**

* * *

Chapter Nine

It was a day and a half before everyone landed in Bushwick Shore, New York and the children bid Mr. Holden a grateful goodbye. It had been a day and a half since James, Henri and Sarah had passed through Newark and three days since they had started their trip. Privately they all wondered how long they were going to be able to keep it up. Before their leaving, Mr. Holden had warned them that there was a British encampment passing through the city.

Sarah coughed, which was beginning to sound painful. "It's getting dark." she whispered, not wanting to hurt her throat. She was right. It was getting cold again and the sun was setting.

"We have to keep going or we'll never reach Boston." James declared, and Sarah tilted her head in agreement.

Bushwick Shore was a port city—small, but busy. Henri crossed his arms. "I'm hungry. And tired."

"We have to keep moving." repeated James.

"What's that?" said Henri, looking up at the darkening sky.

"What's wh—" James was cut off by a drop of water on his face and swiped it away with his fingers. "Oh." he extended his hand to feel, as expected, more raindrops.

"Wonderful." sighed Sarah. "Come on."

They had been walking in the increasing rain for a few minutes when James turned to Sarah. "You're sick. Do you want my coat?" he wasn't too keen on giving it to her but the last thing anyone really needed on their unexpected travels was a deathly ill girl, he reminded himself.

"No, thank you." Sarah glanced up to the sky, squinting slightly in the rain.

"If you get worse you'll just slow us—"

"James, I don't want your _ruddy coat_. I'm fine..." Sarah hesitated before finishing. "Thank you."

Night fell, made darker by the rain clouds.

Suddenly Henri grabbed both of his companions by the shoulders and wretched them backwards. Off-guard, they stumbled and glared at Henri. Sarah opened her mouth to scold before Henri pointed.

"Look!" he whispered.

In the distance, a campfire burned. The large group of men sitting around the campfire were making no effort to hide themselves, talking at normal volumes and heedlessly wandering around. Tents were set up and the sounds of walking could be heard.

Light from the fire fell onto a man on the outskirts of the group and they realized he was on patrol—the metal on his gun gleamed for a moment.

They had found the British encampment.

The three stared at one another in panic for a moment, frozen in place. No one wanted to move, knowing that any snapped branch could alert the soldiers to their unwanted visitors.

The soldiers who were holding guns.

Slowly they began to pick their way back the way they had come, towards the paved street, this task made harder by the darkness, the rain, and their exhaustion. Nevertheless, they were practically to the street again.

And then Henri tripped.

He fell. Small twigs snapped. James hauled him up by the arm without even looking. Everyone was focused on the lights and conversations from the camp. The sentry had began speaking and the James struggled to hear.

"What was that?"

"I don't know. A fox?"

"Really? See if you can get an aim on it. There are good prices for fox pelts nowadays."  
At this point the children just ran. Someone tripped on a cobblestone, the other two children tripped over them, and suddenly everyone was sprawled the street.

"Hello! It's street urchins! Cedric, don't fire, it's just some children—" the man called back to his fellow soldiers before catching a glimpse of their faces and he stepped back for a moment. "Up, all of you."

There was something very familiar about him that Sarah couldn't quite place. Had she seen him before? Had he been at Boston—this could be disastrous.

The children scrambled up, Henri in between Sarah and James, and avoided his eyes. He studied James and his gaze flickered down to Henri before he noticed Sarah. "Look at me, girl."

Sarah held her breath and looked up. Then suddenly the soldier realized slightly. "Is your name Sarah Phillips, Miss?" she nodded and clenched her skirt in her hands nervously.  
"Is your father Major Edward Phillips?" he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. Sarah nodded uncertainly and the man's face broke out in a wide smile. "Colonel Brandon, His Majesty's Army."

Sarah realized how she knew the man. He was a friend of her father's, and had been a semi-regular visitor up until a few years before, when he had received word of his new post in the colonies. Before she could stop herself, she said quickly, "Do you know where my father is? Have you heard from him?"

"Your father? I hadn't known he was in the colonies. Sometimes the letters get lost when one's always moving from place to place. Is he in town?" asked Colonel Brandon. Sarah shook her head.

"He's exploring the wilderness in the Ohio territories. He departed a long time ago." the redhead replied proudly, and a bit wistfully.

As this exchange was going on, the mood between Henri and James had shifted from anxious to bored. It seemed no matter where they went they ran into Torries for Sarah to talk to.

"I zhink England must be very zmall. Zharah knows mostly everyone zhere." Henri complained quietly to James.

"What are you doing here, Miss Phillips? And who are your..." he paused to choose his words. "Er, escorts?"

As Sarah explained the circumstances of her stay in the colonies, the Colonel listened intently. Sarah looked over at James, who nodded slightly. "This is James, and this is Henri. They're apprentices of Dr. Franklin." they both greeted the man. "We're..." she hesitated, then quickly decided. She knew Colonel Brandon could be trusted. "We're on our way to Boston." the Colonel's eyes lit up.

Suddenly something happened that caught everyone's attention. Colonel Brandon pulled from his coat a piece of paper. No, not simply a piece of paper, a letter. He held it in one gloved hand. "This is..." he glanced at Henri and James, then motioned for Sarah to walk away from them a few paces. She looked back at them once before listening to the older man.

"Sarah, this is something very important. I hope I can trust you with it. Your father is a man of impeccable character and he would never pass up a chance to further the Crown."  
Sarah nodded uncomfortably. "I'm loyal to the King." he hadn't said anything about her not being loyal, but she felt like stating it anyway.

"I would never ask anyone other then a soldier to carry it, but circumstances are dire. We're just stopping here for the night before continuing down to Virginia. This letter was supposed to be given to our courier yesterday, but he was indisposed. This letter must go to General Conway—and he happens to be commanding troops in Boston." Sarah swallowed hard and nodded again.

"But, sir, I don't mean to sound disrespectful, but what's—"

"In the letter? You were always a curious girl. You mustn't inform anyone else. On your honor as your father's daughter."

"Alright." said Sarah uncertainly.

"From a recent interrogation we have gathered a sizable amount of the names of traitors to the Crown who are distributing treasonous propaganda—you understand. Our control over the colonies isn't as thorough as we'd like. General Conway has been informed of the letter but he doesn't know it's contents yet. He's still waiting for it." with that, he handed Sarah the letter. "Is there anything you need, Miss Phillips?"

"No. No, sir, thank you." said Sarah quickly. Despite her liking for the man she didn't want to spend another minute with him. It seemed that whenever military men knew her father she was expected to live up to that. Colonel Brandon replied in the same and began to walk away.

"And Miss Phillips?" he turned. "Give my greetings to your father. God keep you."

She replied with a similar goodbye and then slipped the letter into her sleeve as she walked to James and Henri.

"What did the Redcoat want to say?" James asked. He sounded like he did when he was attempting to annoy her, but looked more concerned then teasing.

"He wanted to know how my mother was. He—heard how Tom joined the Army." she said. The group fell silent as they walked.

Sarah could feel the corner of the letter scratching her arm as she walked. She couldn't help but wonder what patriot could have betrayed his countrymen, and what names were in the letter.

Were there any that Ben Franklin knew?

But she had to deliver it. Colonel Brandon was right, she was loyal to the Crown, and so she had to do what he had asked.

Didn't she?

* * *

**So both Daniel Holden and General Conway are real people who were alive during the Rev. War. I like doing that ;) Hopefully this will be the last of the OCs, because I really hate using them. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Ahoy-hoy!**

**Thanks for all the kind reviews! :) They really cheer me up.**

Chapter Ten

They continued to go walk throughout the night, their close encounter with the British keeping them alert. It began to snow.

Henri was very, very tired of being cold, and hungry (they had run out of food that morning). He was also very tired of James and Sarah's sullen bickering, and above all, bored. Like any ten-year-old boy, he would rather be playing, helping in the print shop, or annoying someone then walking all day. Sarah continued to tell him to keep to the road whenever he attempted to wander off in search of something interesting. She sounded like Moses. Ugh!

So, as any young boy would do in a dire situation like this, he complained loudly and vocally whenever he had the breath of the cold, the lack of food, his boredom, and generally anything else he could think of. This didn't actually do much to improve the mood of the group.

Two days later, they reached Boston.

Henri was fairly certain the only time he had been as happy to see a place was when he, James, and Moses had first arrived at the print shop. This thought brought back familiar memories.

* * *

_Henri blinked and tried to sit quietly in the darkest corner of his cell. Perhaps if these two did not see him, no one would hurt him. He didn't know who they were, but no one on this ship was a good man._

_Suddenly there was a clang. A piece of metal—a key—slid underneath his door. He pressed himself against the wall._

_One of the people shouted a few unfamiliar words before footsteps sounded near and near to his door. And then suddenly there was a boy older then him groping on his hands and knees for the key in the relatively dark hold. More unfamiliar words, and then suddenly the boy looked up and saw him cowering in his cell corner._

_Henri couldn't understand English for it was fast and he didn't understand the language the sea captain spoke. But he had managed to pick up a few words, and some of them the boy was using now. Come, and quickly. Venir, and rapidment._

_Suddenly his companion, a large man of color, was looking into the cell too. Henri squeezed his eyes shut and prayed._

_The older man said something else. His loud voice filled the room and Henri opened one eye, straining to understand. The beating was always harder when he didn't understand what the captain wanted. But he couldn't understand a word._

_Suddenly the man pointed at himself with both hands and said the word, "Moses." he knew what this meant. Captain Wright had used it to inform Henri of his name. Monsieur Captain, or Monsieur Wright (he wasn't sure which was his first name) was what he had attempted to call him the first time, and he knew never to do that again._

_Monsieur Moses pointed to him. He nodded, knowing that he wouldn't understand. "Moi je m'appelle Henri Lefevre—nee me blesse pas! Née me blesse pas!" he covered his head with his hands, speaking in a rush._

_To his shock, Monsieur Moses nodded and replied, "Je te présente James." he pointed to the other boy._

_The French was awkward, and the accent wasn't the best, but it was some of the first French he'd heard in a little less then a year. He began to speak quickly, but the man quieted him._

_"No, no..." another word he knew well. "Uh, petite French. Très petite." he said something to the other boy, Monsieur James, and then said something else to Henri that he only caught a few words. Who, and you. Assuming he wanted to know who Henri was, Henri attempted to tell him so, using a combination of gestures, French words, and the odd English word he knew._

_Afterwards M. James turned to M. Moses and said something. Again, Henri picked out words. We, help, Moses._

_M. Moses spoke to M. James and M. James left his view before coming back with a long, metal pole. Without warning the man wedged the pole between the bars and began to force the bars open. Slowly the space between the bars widened. Henri watched in disbelief._

_When the space was wide enough, M. Moses gestured for him to climb through. Henri shook his head. What if Captain Wright found him again? The punishment would be severe._

_M. Moses said something to him he couldn't understand, then something he could. "Sécurité."_

_Safe._

_Would he be safe with these people? He didn't know, but he figured that it couldn't be worse then where he was now. These people hadn't tried to hurt him._

_Henri climbed out of the hold and looked around. A few minutes later he was holding his breath and lying inside a large box as the Monsieurs carried him out of the ship._

* * *

_Henri watched curiously as M. Moses stopped the horse and cart in the courtyard behind a largeish building. He had been allowed to sit up and in the cart as soon as they had left the city. He sat next to James, who had informed him that he 'wasn't no mon-anything' as soon as Henri had attempted to address him with the honorific. Henri didn't mind, as James was only a few years older, but he knew what could happen if he didn't show enough respect to Captain Wright and hadn't wanted to repeat the mistake._

_Walking inside the building, Henri swiveled his head around at all the unfamiliar equipment and furniture. James stood next to Henri as M. Moses walked out of the room and came back talking in English to another man, older, with gray hair._

_"Je m'apelle Dr. Franklin." he said, and then began to speak in completely fluent French to him._

_Henri was a bit short, so Dr. Franklin knelt down to his eye level to introduce everyone else again._

_"This is James. He's my apprentice—he's eleven. How old are you?" he said in French. James had looked interested at first, but now that it was established he didn't know the language anyone was speaking, he was kicking his feet and shifting around the room._

_His eyes widened. Dr. Franklin spoke excellent French. "Seven."_

_He related his story again—a bit clearer now that he could speak it in his own language. "My Maman and Papa told me that we would go across the sea, but...they got sick—and one of the sailors told me that they...had gone to God, but they didn't come back from Him..." he struggled with the words. Dr. Franklin and Moses looked at one another._

_"Plague?" said Moses in English, and Dr. Franklin nodded. Henri continued in French._

_"The captain of the ship told me I had to work for him. He said my parents had said they would work for him for...nine years, but I still don't understand. He made me work for him, and clean, and carry water, but I didn't know what he said. He got angry with me when I didn't understand..."_

_"Never mind that anymore." said Dr. Franklin. "If you wish, you could have a home with us."_

_"He could be like my brother and be a patriot with me." James said optimistically, patting Henri's shoulder. "What's his name, again?"_

_Of course, James had spoken this in English, and Henri didn't catch a word, but he was starting to like the older boy, and Moses and Dr. Franklin seemed like good people as well._

_"Henri." said Dr. Franklin, then turned to the younger boy. "What do you say, Henri? Do you want to stay with us?"_

_The little boy nodded vigorously. With some difficulty, Dr. Franklin rose to his feet. _

_"James, you make up the other bed in your room. Henri can help you." James groaned at this, crossing his arms._

_"Dr. Franklinnnn, that's girl work!" Dr. Franklin raised one eyebrow and James grabbed Henri's hand. "Come on, Henry. I'll show you where you're gonna sleep."_

_"It's Henri!" called Moses from the print shop, chuckling._

_For the first time in a year, Henri had a family._

* * *

James nudged Henri in the side, and he looked up to see a house. "Well, here goes nothing." said James, and he raised his hand and knocked on the door.

A maid opened the door, looking at the three tired, hungry, cold, bedraggled children confusedly. "We don't need any chim'ny sweeps 'ere—be off."

"We're here to see Mrs. Adams." said Sarah. "She's expecting us." which wasn't exactly true, but nevertheless, they had to see her, anyway.

"Who is it, Laura?" called someone inside. Laura bit her lip, considering, before sticking her head back inside the door.

"Mistress?" she called. "You're gonna want tae see this."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Hey, **_

**So, you might have noticed that I'm updating sporadically. In August my dad got a new kidney and he's been in and out of the hosptial with complications. He's in the 'in' stage. Life is punching me in the face right now. Hopefully everyone understands. **

It took exactly ten minutes to explain to Mrs. Abigail Adams what had happened and why they were there. It took another forty-five for everything to be straightened out otherwise. To her credit, the woman seemed unflappably practical. Introductions were made quickly.

"Moses never informed me that he was not planning on sending you." she said to the three children sitting in her parlor. It was not the most relaxing of functions. James sat with his hands in his lap looking nervously at the unfamiliar setting. Henri was, as usual, waiting for something more fun to happen, and Sarah, who would be the most comfortable in such a place, alternated coughing fits and attempting to communicate proper behavior to James and Henri through glares. "I assumed you were simply later then expected." she spoke a few words to the dark-haired maid who had let them in, and she left the room.

"I have children of my own." she said, "Three sons and a daughter. I hope it isn't too crowded for either of you." she said, speaking to James and Henri.

They shook their heads and she continued. "Then I believe it would be best for James and Henri to stay with the boys and for Sarah to stay with Abigail." there was not much further discussion on accommodations. Mrs. Adams wanted to know if anything interesting was happening in Philadelphia, the children wanted to know if anything interesting had happened in Boston.

Henri interrupted James halfway through. "I'm hungry." he complained. Sarah coughed, then glared at him. Mrs. Adams smiled.

"I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Despite the fact that the children had no luggage, Mrs. Adams soon after gave them leave for their rooms, unsurprising as they had walked a long distance in less than a week, and the children went their separate ways. Well, James and Henri stayed together. Sarah wasn't with them. She found the room easily enough and sat down on a chair, wondering if that was how it would always be—them as patriots, her as a loyalist—them as boys and her as a girl, even. She coughed.

"Oh, you're already in here." Sarah turned around at the surprised voice in the doorway. A little girl with fair hair entered the room, shorter than Sarah. "My name is Abigail, but so is my Mother's. Everyone calls me Nabby." she dipped down in a curtsey for a moment, the picture of deportment.

"My name is Sarah Phillips." Sarah introduced herself, standing up to curtsey as well—since she was an example, the hard sort where you didn't hold onto your skirts. Nabby crossed the room to supervise the re-tying of her own sash in the mirror before sitting down on the other side of the bed and scrutinizing Sarah.

"You're from England, aren't you?"

Sarah nodded. Nabby turned her head.

"Did you really walk from Philadelphia to hide from British soldiers?"

She nodded again.

"Mother would never let me walk anywhere on my own, especially now with all the soldiers about." Nabby said, a bit wistfully. Sarah coughed.

"Well, mine didn't give permission."

"Did you run away?" Nabby's eyes got big. "Does she know where you are?"

"No. She lives in England still." both girls were a bit quiet after this admission.

Finally Nabby said, "I don't think I would like it if my mother lived in England, but I don't like lots of things. She says I might understand when I'm older. I'm nine, and I'm the oldest of all my brothers."

Sarah smiled. Nabby reminded her of her youngest cousin, Georgina. "Well, thank you for letting me share your room...Nabby." when the little girl showed no objection to using this nickname she continued. "How old are your brothers?"

"Um..." Nabby scrunched her face up, thinking. "Charles is four and John is...seven, and Thomas is one. But his birthday will be soon. I have to watch them all the time because we have no Nurse. It's just us, and Laura." Sarah assumed this was the titan maid. Nabby leaned forward. "Did you hear about the destruction of the tea? Mother wouldn't let us outside for weeks."

"Yes, I...heard about it." said Sarah. She coughed and her hands went to her locket.

"The British soldiers won't let anything get through anymore. Mother is angry about that. She says it's not their right. Laura is angry too, but that's because she's running out of flour and can't buy more. She's from Ireland, you know, and she has fourteen brothers and sisters. Are you a patriot? My mother and father are patriots, and my father is in Philadelphia, like you. Mother says he is doing important work for America. Sometimes I write to him. My mother helps me to."

"Hmmm." said Sarah absently, attempting to ignore the younger girl's question of loyalties. Soon, however, the interrogation subsided when Nabby found more revelry in cutting up a dress design book with the intent of pasting fabric onto the dresses. Sarah and her cousins had been mildly interested in the craft a few years ago. But at the moment, she had another activity on her mind.

"Nabby, do you have any paper?" she asked. After being directed to the chest on the far side of the room, she sat down and began her long-overdue letter to her mother.

_March 3, 1774 _

_Dear Mother,_

_There is much to tell you in this letter. Almost a week ago, James, Henri, and I were subject to Trouble from our very own British soldiers. Apparently, because of Dr. Franklin's Thoughts on the New World, we were to be arrested! We were forced to walk to another Residence in another Colony. Needless to say I am disappointed with His Majesty's Army at the Moment, excluding Father and Tom, of course. _

_I am writing this Letter in the House of the Wife of one of Dr. Franklin's Friends—a Patriot, Mr. John Adams. We have been very kindly taken in by her until the entire dreadful Business with Dr. Franklin can be resolved, hopefully for the better. I am unharmed in this whole Ordeal. Thankfully the Weather has warmed up a little and we were not walking through Snow the whole Way. Right now the Weather feels like London but colder. _

_It is imperative, for everyone's safety, that Dr. Franklin be pardoned as soon as possible. You say you cannot visit him or send a Letter, but surely there must be something you can do? I worry for him. What sort of Evidence do they have against him, besides his Writings? _

_Mother, I wish you were with me so that I could ask your Advice._

Sarah bit her lip and touched one finger to the hiding place of the letter, feeling the paper underneath the fabric of her sleeve. For once in her life she didn't feel like telling her mother everything.

_James and Henri are doing alright as well. We have not heard from Moses since we left Philadelphia, however. I pray he comes to no harm. Should you get a chance to talk to Dr. Franklin please assure him that we are all well and hoping for his safe return to America._

_I still have not heard a Word from Father. While writing the Date on today's Letter I realized that I have been in the Colonies almost four Months. I shall almost certainly not hear from him until after Easter. It is terribly frustrating. _

_Mother, my cousins, who promised to endeavor to write to me every Day, have barely written since December. I have not received a letter from them in months. Are they alrigh t? What has happened? _

_I will probably not hear from you again until after I return to Philadelphia, but I have not sent you a Letter in many Days and did not want you to worry._

_Your loving daughter, _

_Sarah_


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I'm thinking about how I could do some sort of LK-based-on-the-Newsies-musical story because it's a little obsessive with me. I mean, think about it. Katherine is the replacement for the movie love intrest Jack has, whose name is Sarah. Katherine's a journalist. Jack sells papers and generally is rebellious, and has a young friend. Tell me there's no potential for a fic. I want to do a 'Something To Believe In' AMV to Librety's Kids clips. Squee.**

After supper Sarah, acting on Mrs. Adams' instruction, borrowed one of Nabby's nightdresses, braided her hair, oversaw the braiding of Nabby's hair, as Laura was still attending to the boys, blew out the candles, climbed into the bed, drew the curtains, and went to sleep.

Or rather, tried to. Although the younger girl beside her went to sleep almost immediately, Sarah still wasn't finished with her day. She slid out of the bed as quietly as possible, so not to wake Nabby, and went to the discarded dress she had folded up, slid her hand into its sleeve and pulled out the folded, sealed paper. She tucked it into the waist of her stays. The little girl had still not stirred. She pulled the curtains around her bed and closed her eyes.

Sarah didn't know how long she had lain there attempting to stifle her coughs and not wake up Nabby before a hand grabbed her shoulder.

She bolted upright and knocked her head into James'. "What are you doing?" she hissed, glancing at Nabby's sleeping form. Without waiting for an answer, she stifled a cough and stood up, drawing the bed curtains back around the bed, as not to wake up Nabby. James handed her the candle he had been using to light his way, and she lit several more, dimly lighting the room.

"Is something the matter?" she asked in a whisper, forcing another cough to die in her throat. She hadn't actually spoken to James since they had arrived at the Adams' house. "Is Henri alright?"

"Everything's fine. I just wanted..." suddenly, James felt very stupid. "Um, to see if you were alright." it had seemed a much more sensible comment in his head.

Sarah looked down at the floor. "Well, I'm...tired. Aren't you?" James nodded, awkwardly following her gaze, and that's when he realized that she must be wearing one of the little girl's—Nabby, he thought her name was—nightgowns. Sarah, being almost twice as old, was a good deal taller then the eight-year-old. He could practically see her knees!

He quickly diverted her attention to her face, and suddenly he came to a shocking realization.

Sarah was..._pretty_.

His brain was running into dangerous territory now, and he quickly amended his thoughts. Well, not really pretty. Prettier then, say, spiders, maybe. There was nothing wrong with her face, anyway.

He glanced away and hoped she hadn't seen him looking.

"What about Moses? How is he going to find us?" she asked in a whisper, finally coughing. James cringed at the sound but no one seemed to stir.

"I don't know—I hope he remembers that he told us about going to stay with the Adams'." there was quiet, then James continued. "I— what if he gets arrested, and the British convict him of treason and..." he trailed off. Sarah tentatively lay a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sure that won't happen." she didn't look quite as hopeful she could've but it did make him feel a little better. Then a thought came to him.

"Sarah, how do you not worry about your family? I mean, your father is out in the wilderness. He might always be in danger. Who knows what could happen to him out there?"

"I do worry." Sarah admitted, clasping her hands together. "But my father is an officer in the King's Army. He can take care of himself," she smiled, a little wearily. James was also beginning to feel (more) exhausted. "And so can Moses." they exchanged goodnights.

James, who had opted to sleep on blankets on the floor, made his way back to the room he was sleeping in.

Sarah turned to go back to her bed, twisting her stays and giving herself a papercut from the envelope. She scowled.

* * *

Sarah opened her eyes to see Mrs. Adams and Laura standing at the edge of her bed, with Henri sitting on her ankles. Well, she didn't quite see them properly, because the room was spinning.

"Sarah, I think it would be best if you stayed in bed today. Henri told me you weren't well." Mrs. Adams sounded ridiculously far away. Sarah shook her head, regretted it, and pushed herself off the bed.

"I—I think I'll be fine. Yes, I'm fine." she rose to her feet, took two steps forward, and fell over.

With Sarah confined to bed for the rest of the foreseeable future, it fell to James and Henri to convince Mrs. Adams to let them out and go reporting.

"No."

"But—" James began to protest.

"Please, boys. I cannot allow you to go out for some time. We never know who could be in Boston. I must keep you safe—Moses asked me to, and he was asked to by Benjamin Franklin." Mrs. Adams closed the book she was reading. "Please try to understand."

"Well, what are we going to do?" asked Henri as they left for the nursery, where the other children were occupied.

"I don't know. We need to go reporting and see what's happening in Boston." said James once they were out of earshot.

"But Mrs. Adams said we had to stay here." said Henri, not exactly protesting.

"We could sneak out." said James.

"We could." agreed Henri. He turned to look at James, surprised. "Will we?"

James shrugged in a way that Henri knew very well, because it meant 'yes'.

"Hurry up, Henri. It won't be long until we're expected for lunch." James grabbed Henri's hand and pulled him along in the moderately busy street before he noticed a man he had seen before—

—almost three and a half months before, in fact when he was 'disguised' as a Mohawk Indian in breeches and a linen shirt, throwing a box of tea off of the side of a certain ship. He was currently entering what looked to be an apothecary.

"Come on, Henri." he grabbed Henri by the hand again and followed the man into the shop. If he had been at the Tea Party he had to have some news.

Henri followed him as James quietly pushed open the door to the apothecary. Several people were already inside.

"—still on trial." a man was saying to a woman behind the counter as he handled her a bottle and some money. "I imagine he will be until they find some obvious evidence to convict him—although I doubt that can be the end of it. Franklin has too many friends."

Realizing who they were talking about, Henri elbowed James, who turned to the man. "What could they find?" he asked quickly.

The man turned to James. "Anything they can." he laughed mirthlessly. "Probably a connection to other 'traitors'—Farmer George can say he was the one who encouraged it."

Briefly James thought of all of their informants, some of whom delivered seditious tips.

Only one would have to be caught, and then there would be real trouble.

Well. More real trouble.

"Do you think zhat will 'appen?" asked Henri.

"More then likely. I'm surprised it hasn't already—but there's a bit of hope. If it doesn't happen soon the public's going to get restless. Franklin isn't without a bit of celebrity. People like him. The more time it takes them, the more chance they won't find anything."

"Oh." it was obvious that Henri didn't quite understand, and neither did James, really, but that didn't stop a knot of dread of tying itself in his stomach.

"Um, I think it's time for lunch." he said quickly to Henri, grabbed his hand again, and ran out of the apothecary.


End file.
